


The Weight Of Your Hand In Mine

by thisiswherethefishlives



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Fingering, M/M, Massages, Sweet Sweet Fluff, bottom!Mack, hand holding, minor angst at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 09:32:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2616971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisiswherethefishlives/pseuds/thisiswherethefishlives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz has nice hands. It's something Mack thinks about often.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Weight Of Your Hand In Mine

Fitz has nice hands. It’s something Mack thinks about often. Smaller than his own hands, they are by no means small or dainty. Slender, calloused fingers that are rarely still - fluttering around like butterflies as Fitz jumps from one idea to another. He’s a genius, and Mack can’t help but marvel at the connections Fitz grasps seemingly out of nowhere. His mind is intangible, so Mack settles for his hands. Fingers twined with his, sweaty palm pressed against his dryer one. It shouldn’t feel perfect - it’s moist, and almost too warm, but these moments when they hold hands… it’s the only time Fitz’s hands stop moving. So yeah, Fitz has nice hands.

=

The feel of his hands trailing over Mack’s skin makes him shiver in anticipation. Strong, sure fingers dig into the tense muscles of his shoulders and he can’t keep the groans from slipping out. Fitz lets out a laugh as he continues to work the knots out. It’s such a difference from where they were six months ago. The physical therapy has done wonders for Fitz’s confidence - his hands have become stronger, less shaky, and more sure in their movements. The fact that he’s willing to give Mack massages now speaks volumes about his confidence.

The life they live isn’t perfect. It’s dangerous, and there isn’t enough time. Not nearly enough time to work out the kinks in their relationship - to make sure that Fitz knows how much he means to Mack - how loved he is. How perfect he is to Mack. It’s not a new feeling - Fitz has been perfect to him from the first day that they met.

He feels Fitz’s fingers kneading down lower, stopping to linger as Fitz murmurs the various muscle groups under his breath. He goes from the rhomboids to his lower trapezius, thumbs pressing firmly in sweeping motions.  Mack’s breathing goes deep and sharp as Fitz pushes his boxers down his thighs to give him better access. He can feel the calloused finger tips massage the globes of his ass - just shy of rough, Mack can’t help but hiss as he’s spread underneath the other man’s agile hands and watchful eyes. Nice doesn’t begin to describe Fitz’s hands at this point.

=

It’s hard to think about anything beyond the slick fullness of Fitz’s finger as it works inside of him. Mack’s still getting used to Fitz taking the reins, making it clear when he wants something - when he wants Mack. The first time they had stumbled into bed together, they had taken their time getting to know each other’s bodies and Fitz had been an eager participant. Despite his eagerness, it always felt like Fitz was more concerned with Mack’s pleasure, like he was holding himself back.

Had it been anyone else, Mack would have been fine with it - would have reveled in it - but it was Fitz, and he loved him. So, they talked it out with their eyes averted and their hands clasped together. They talked, and talked, and then Mack allowed himself to be pushed back into the blankets. Allowed himself to be stripped bare under the other man’s gaze. He allowed himself to arch under Fitz’s steady touch, to beg for more as Fitz slicked his fingers and started to work him open. It’s slow, steady - it’s heady and intense, and Mack can feel the heat blooming on his cheeks and across his chest. His skin feels warm and tight everywhere as Fitz eases in a second finger.

The stretch burns, and it’s almost too much as he rides the edge between pleasure and pain, but then Fitz rests his other hand on the small of his back. It’s such a small, throwaway gesture… but it’s comforting, and it’s Fitz, and he can feel his body start to relax. The burn fades and all that’s left is pleasure and fullness. It’s heat, and slick, and overwhelming, and he’s begging for more.

He’s begging for more, thrusting back on Fitz’s slender, perfect fingers. It’s not enough, and it’s undoing him how much he wants this. It’s not that he’s never been on the receiving end, but most people take one look at him and assume that he tops. It’s fine, more than fine because he loves sex, so he’s never complained - but that’s not the point. The point is, he’s forgotten how intense it can be and he  _loves_  Fitz. He loves him and he loves this, and he loves.

God, he loves, and he loves, and he loves.

He doesn’t realize that he’s been speaking out loud until he registers Fitz shushing him softly, running his free hand up and down his back soothingly as he gently works his fingers out. A sob breaks from Mack’s throat at the sudden emptiness. Fitz’s lips brush from his shoulders, up to his neck. Mouthing behind his ear he asks permission.

Sweetly, he asks if it’s alright, if he can continue - it’s all “please” and “I love you” and “we can do something else” and “I just want you to feel good.”

Mack can’t bring himself to speak, so he nods. Turning his head to kiss into Fitz’s mouth, he nods again - forces himself to actually say it. The words tumble from his mouth - all “yes” and “please” and “I need more, I need you.”

It’s enough because the questions are gone from Fitz’s hands. He can’t see his face, but he can feel the surety and confidence in his lover’s hands as they work back down his body with purpose. Mack registers the click of the lube being popped open and the wet sound of Fitz slicking his cock up. He feels the dip of the bed as Fitz moves closer, and the soft stroke of Fitz’s hands as they stroke up and down his thighs.

It’s comforting, but it doesn’t do anything to calm the butterflies in his stomach. He’s ready, and he wants. He wants the blunt pressure of Fitz’s cock against him and the warm friction as he pushes in further. It’s overwhelming, how much he wants this, and he’s finding it difficult to focus on any one thing. Mack registers the feeling of Fitz’s hands roaming over his skin - arms wrapped around him from behind, smoothing over his chest. He feels it when Fitz is finally buried to the hilt. He feels the frantic beat of the other man’s heart, his chest pressed so close to Mack’s back that he can feel each breath.

He’s never felt this close to anyone else, never been so in sync that his every breath is in time with another person’s. It’s beautiful, and he loves it, but then Fitz shifts back and sets a steady rhythm. It’s the furthest thing from rough sex - Mack’s had that before, and he knows what that can be - bruising and fast and always with an edge of danger… this isn’t rough sex, but he feels laid bare and it’s more than he’s used to. He’s so vulnerable as Fitz rocks into him again and again, goose bumps spreading across his skin under the other man’s ministrations.

Fitz’s breath fans against his neck and he can feel the warmth spread low in his stomach - it’s growing, and churning, and he needs more. He’s whining now, “please” and “baby” and “I need you to touch me.” It’s something he won’t be proud of in the morning, but it gets him what he needs as Fitz wraps a tight hand around Mack’s cock. It’s leaking, and it’s aching, and it feels like heaven. He’s so close, and every stroke of Fitz’s hand is timed with his hips as his thrusts pick up their pace.

Fitz is fucking into him and it’s  _good_. His hands and his cock and the brush of his lips against the back of Mack’s neck. It’s good and he can feel himself teetering on the edge. He’s there, and he’s ready to fall, and it’s that final twist of Fitz’s wrist that does it. He feels it from his toes to his finger tips as he comes into the other man’s hand.

He’s tingling, and warm, and every sensation against his skin is like a brand. Three, four, five more thrusts and Fitz shudders to a stop, buried as deep as he can get. They lay there for what feels like hours but is probably closer to minutes as their breathing evens out.

Fitz pulling out to get them cleaned up is what snaps him back to reality. The warm, damp washcloth shocks him into action and he moves to take it from Fitz’s hand before making quick work of cleaning himself. Throwing the washcloth over towards the dirty laundry pile that he really needs to see to in the morning, he moves under the covers and waits for Fitz to join him.

Eyes closed, exhausted, he can hear Fitz fumbling around the room before he can feel the blankets lift as the other man joins him in bed. They don’t say anything, but Mack opens his eyes when he feels Fitz’s hands cup his face gently. Fitz looks wrecked - all wide eyes, flushed skin, and swollen lips. His fingers stroke gently along the planes of Mack’s face before he leans in to pepper his face with soft kisses. They smile dopily at each other before settling back into the pillows.

Fitz is out like a light within seconds, and he’s so gorgeous - hands folded beneath his head, face more relaxed in sleep than it is during his waking hours. He’s so young looking when he sleeps , and Mack is certain that this is the person he should be with. He’s the only person whose hand he wants to hold. Mack falls asleep thinking about holding Fitz’s hands.

=

He doesn’t want to let go. It feels like he’ll lose him forever if he lets go of the smaller man’s hands. It’s not logical, and he knows that, but knowing that he’s being irrational doesn’t help. Fitz is smiling at him, and if he’s scared it doesn’t show… but Mack is terrified. He’s not ready for Fitz to be out in the field again, certainly not without him.

He knows. Logically. This shouldn’t be a dangerous mission. It should be fine, but there’s always that change that things will go wrong and the thought of Fitz not coming home to him is unthinkable. Because it’s more than loving him at this point. It’s so much more. Over the past year, Fitz has crawled under his skin and now he’s everything that Mack thinks of as home.

Fitz is everything and he’s walking out the door with a smile on his face and a little wave. He’s walking out the door without Mack.

Staring down at his hands, he starts to pray. He’s not a religious man… not by any means, but he’s willing to believe if it means that Fitz will be safe - that Fitz will return to him. He allows himself this moment before getting back to work.

This is the life they signed up for - it’s dangerous, and there are more unknowns than knowns at this point, but they make the world a safer place. Fitz is out there making the world safer, and that’s something to be proud of. So, he gets back to work and he waits, and he hopes, and he forces himself to believe that he’ll hold Fitz’s hand again sometime real soon. 


End file.
